


La Petit Mort

by Glitchy Charlizard (CharlieMistry)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Angry Sex, Arrest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, M/M, Makeup Sex, Moral Dilemmas, On the Run, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Rimming, horny blowjobs, perfectworldshipping - Freeform, spoilers for x and y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2740325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieMistry/pseuds/Glitchy%20Charlizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the events of X and Y, Professor Augustine Sycamore is forced to confront everything he thought he knew about the man he'd loved and lost, when he arrives at his doorstep, alive and well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thank you's all around to the perfectworldshipping community on tumblr, especially rytt3k and thatpersonrightbehindyou. ilu <3

He had mourned for this man. He had shed many tears for this man. For almost a year, he had been in a living hell for this man. This man standing at his doorstep in the pouring rain at 2am.

Augustine Sycamore shut the door in Lysandre de Fleur’s face. One did not want to make a habit of welcoming the dead into his home.

\--

Leaning his back against the cool wood of the door, Augustine’s face felt hot but his blood ran cold. His eyes were stinging with the tears he thought had run dry. His mind was bombarded by memories of that incident. Back then, he had no idea there was anything wrong until he received _that_ Holo Caster message.

_"Pokémon Trainers. I come to you by the Holo Caster to make an important announcement. Listen well…"_

Augustine had felt the blood in his veins freeze. Not only was something wrong, it was catastrophically wrong. He knew that Lysandre held impossibly high ideals. He knew that the man was disgusted by the many mistakes of humanity. He knew that he was determined to build a perfect world… But not like this… Mon dieu, not like this!

\--

The violent knocking at the door started again.

"Augustine, I need to talk to you!"

'It's a little late for that, don't you think?' Augustine thought to himself.

He felt as responsible for the situation as Lysandre. He could’ve talked some sense into him. Talked him away from the figurative cliff.

The closest he’d done to talking him down came the night before the incident. 

Though they shared a bed most nights, it was usually Lysandre that wrapped his arms around the other. ‘Mon grand’, Augustine liked to call him, as he curled up against him. He always felt so safe, so loved, when he was in those big strong arms. Often, he found that he couldn’t sleep without the other man’s comforting scent. A heady mix of faded expensive cologne and something more natural, earthy and masculine and undeniably Lysandre.

But that night, Lysandre had practically cowered in his sleep, clearly terrified by his own dreams. Augustine embraced him and kissed the soft skin of his shoulder. He stroked his hair and whispered comforting words in his ear. None of Augustine’s actions could stop the shivering, the silent pleas escaping his rough lips, the tortured furrowing of his brow… 

He couldn’t protect the man he loved from the unknown horrors that he couldn’t reach. What kind of man couldn’t protect those that they loved? And he did love him. He was the sun to Augustine’s flower. He would wilt and die without his light. Watching him suffer was like watching his flame being gradually extinguished. 

Eventually, he had to resort to grabbing his shoulder and shaking him out of his nightmares. Augustine would never forget that terrified look on Lysandre’s face. Even in the dark of the night, he could see shocking blue eyes, bright like a warning to predators. Confusion and desperate animal fear distorted his handsome features. Augustine caressed the frightened man’s cheek and kissed his forehead.

"It was just a dream, mon ange. I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you."

He held Lysandre in his arms and continued whispering gentle words of comfort in his ear, until they were both asleep. When he woke up the next morning, Lysandre was already gone.

\--

He should’ve known… He should’ve just _known_ … They were in love and they had a true connection. How could Augustine have missed something as big as plans of _genocide_? And what of his promise to Lysandre?

_"I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you."_

But how could he possibly protect Lysandre from himself? Even on a mundane level, Augustine could never deny the man anything.

"You shouldn’t buy me these expensive things, but merci. You used my toothbrush? I can’t really be angry, it’s like kissing, I suppose. You want to do _what_ in the bedroom? Actually, I must confess, I’ve always wanted to give that a try! You want to activate an ancient weapon and destroy humanity for the good of your little gang…?"

Augustine shuddered. What if Lysandre had _actually_ revealed his plans to him? Would he have been strong enough in himself to say no? His stomach twisted into a million knots, like knitting a scarf. He wasn’t certain that he would’ve been able to confront him.

\--

On top of the gut-twisting sense of guilt, Augustine had to deal with an overwhelming grief that he was honestly surprised hadn’t killed him.

When one of his aides told him the news that the weapon had backfired and Lysandre’s body couldn’t be found… His mouth went dry. His vision blurred out of focus. His heart, once full but light, had suddenly turned to lead, causing him to fall to the floor. The only reaction he felt appropriate would be to curl up into a ball, scream until his throat seized up and cry until his tears turned to blood. Sina and Dexio sure had their work cut out for them that afternoon.

After much support from his assistants (and a helpful little bottle of wine from Sophie), Augustine was able to restore his mask of the good Professor. It was one of his trainers who’d put a stop to Lysandre’s plans, specifically, the laboratory’s golden child, Serena. She meant well. And Augustine was somewhat grateful that she had managed to stop Lysandre before he could successfully carry out the unthinkable. But as he met up with her in Couriway Town, he was torn between gratitude and this gaping crater in his chest, reflecting the gaping crater in the middle of Geosenge Town, where his heart now presumably lay. He wanted to hate this girl for what she’d taken. But when he thought about it for a moment, he realised… She had saved Lysandre from a fate worse than his own demise. And by the haunted look on her face, she was clearly not feeling entirely justified in her actions.

"I have to apologize to you about Lysandre… I’m very sorry for the trouble he caused…"

He felt that he had to apologise out loud. It was almost like a weight being lifted, but not quite. More like a grain of sand taken from a beach of sorrow. The girl still had tears in her eyes.

"And I’d also like to thank you! I’m sincerely grateful for what you did for all of the Pokémon and people of this world," he told her, more for her sake than anything. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if the ground caved in and swallowed up all existence. But he still wore the mask of the good professor, possessed by the ideals of love and kindness. So he tried his best to alleviate her sorrow and take over the burden of guilt for Lysandre’s dea… For whatever had happened to Lysandre.

"And by stopping Team Flare, you also saved Lysandre. I always knew that he desired a beautiful world…"

'You saved Lysandre from committing genocide,' he thought as he told her this. 'But I should've saved him to begin with.'

–

Augustine didn’t know if Serena or any of the other trainers knew the true nature of his relationship with Lysandre. Not that he was ashamed of it. No, far from it, he had wanted to shout it from the rooftops. And if they’d asked, he would never deny it. But with their blissful ignorance, they would never know how much pain he’d been in.

He tried to distract himself, throwing himself into research, even throwing a parade for the trainers’ hard work and bravery. All of this turned out to be for nought, as each project always came back to Lysandre.

His research into mega evolution prompted an excavation of the Geosenge crater. His team weren’t sure exactly what the crater had to do with the research, but the professor had insisted it was crucial.

The parade, though bright with hope of a beautiful future and warm with the overflowing love of friendships, old and new, was tinged with the still raw wounds of loss.

'Lysandre should be here to see this… Surely he wouldn't be blind to this much hope, love and beauty…' Augustine mused, as the celebrations began to wind down.

That night, he had stared at an old photograph of Lysandre, smiling ecstatically at the opening of his cafe, and smoked most of a medium pack of menthol cigarettes. He’d never see that smile again. The light was gone.

–

A month or so after the parade, Augustine had to finally accept that Lysandre had to be…. There was no way he could have… Lysandre was _dead_. He was dead. The man he loved was dead. He took it upon himself to arrange the funeral. It was another project to throw himself into and the de Fleur family were much too proud to admit that a son of their lineage would do something so foolish… Apparently ignoring the origin of the legend. Regardless of them, Augustine put together a very basic ceremony, much unlike the sort of affairs Lysandre was used to. But with his ideals the way they were and his fears of humanity destroying the world it inhabited, Augustine knew the simple outdoor service, with lawn chairs and lilies, would’ve been what Lysandre had wanted.

And after the funeral, his heart and limbs turned to lead once again, he went home to think about how he was going to rebuild his own life. On the most part, his plan consisted mainly of work more, smoke more, sleep more. He had no trouble with the first two items, but sleep soon faded into the distance with Lysandre.

\--

So, here he was now. Pressing his weight against his front door, fighting with his instincts to open it and pull the man into a mad embrace before making desperate love to him, in an attempt to meld together as one being. But no, he had to be strong.

"Augustine, I’m not leaving until you let me in!"

"If you stay a minute longer, I’m calling the police!" he shouted, his voice wavering as much as his resolve.

"I’ll turn myself in once I’ve had a chance to explain myself to you!"

Augustine felt like he was being pulled by wild horses in all directions. ‘Do I let him come in and explain himself? Do I blindly forgive him for everything? Do I call the police? Do I condemn the man to a life in prison while I continue my own life sentence without him? Once this night is over, do I carry on living? Could I possibly move on with my life? Could I love again? Or should I surrender to a simpler way? A bottle of pills perhaps?’

His reverie was broken by a return of the violent banging on the door. He hadn’t realised he was crying until he turned around, splashing and dripping down his pyjama shirt. His willpower was showing cracks, if he didn’t do something to fix it soon…

Augustine put up the door chain and opened the door a little.

"Do you really think you can explain away all you’ve done?" he hissed, mildly surprised by the venom in his own voice.

"No. But I want to try anyway. I never wanted to hide anything from you and I definitely didn’t want to hurt you."

Augustine felt something snap. Like the seal of an ancient volcano. His once chilly blood now ran hot and thick, like lava. He very rarely got angry. But this last simple statement… It was only the door chain that had stopped him from reaching out and physically attacking the man.

"You didn’t want to hurt me? Pray tell, Lysandre, what did you think that the ultimate weapon would’ve done to me if it had worked?"

"It would’ve…" Lysandre spoke quietly, with a somewhat alien softness. "It would’ve been over instantaneously. You wouldn’t have felt pain. You would never have felt pain again."

The professor laughed bitterly.

"Well, mon dieu! What a pity it failed! Instead, I have been through nothing but pain for the past year, trying to cope with the death of the man I thought was my soulmate! And then you decide to just turn up? At 2am no less. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? Do you have any idea what I’m going through right now? You are supposed to be dead and, trust me, Lys, I could happily murder you right now!"

"I can’t apologise enough."

"No. You can’t," he growled. He closed the door, but then some morbid curiosity took over him. He unfastened the door chain and opened the door again. "You might as well come in. That way I’ll know for certain that the police are able to find you."

Lysandre’s eyes widened. He didn’t move, unsure how serious Augustine’s words were.

"Do I have to drag you in?"

The tall man entered the apartment and stood awkwardly in the hallway. Augustine made a point of taking the key from a hook on the wall, locking the front door with it then putting it in his breast pocket. He then wearily led Lysandre into the kitchen.

\--

Lysandre hung his head in shame as he followed the man through the apartment. He could see how much Augustine must have suffered. His charmingly messy hair was greasy and also plagued with more grey hairs than he’d remembered. Wrinkles on his face had transformed from reminders of his constant smiling and laughing to an engraved history of sorrowed frowns. Though always quite svelte, the professor was now almost skeletal. When they were together, Lysandre would often have to remind him to eat. Clearly, there was no one to remind him now. Similarly, the purple bags under his eyes. Left unattended in the lab, Augustine would probably try to go days without sleep. Lysandre had to, on occasion, physically carry him to bed. Though, this always proved mutually effective, as it would lead to slow soothing love-making, or just blissfully falling asleep together.

Augustine could practically tell what he was thinking by the way his eyes scanned over him. ‘You have no right to pity me,’ he growled internally.

"Could I make you a coffee?" he asked, his voice sounding strained, like being polite to the man was poisoning him.

"It’s 2am, Augustine," Lysandre pointed out half-heartedly.

This caused Augustine’s newfound temper to erupt again. “Is it, really?! My, don’t I feel foolish! Who gets up to answer the door to a fraudulent maniac at 2am? Then offers him small acts of kindness, when really he wants nothing more than to beat him to a pulp?! I’m clearly the one in the wrong here!!!”

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to be a slight. I just really think you need some sleep."

Then Augustine lost what little control he had left of his emotions. He wanted to punch the other man in the face. He decided against it however, based on reasons that he didn’t find to be particularly noble. Mainly, he was concerned that either he’d hurt his hand or Lysandre would retaliate in kind.

Instead of punching Lysandre, he chose to throw a cup in his general direction instead. Lysandre didn’t even need to dodge it, but as he looked down at the remains, it hurt more than if the shards were piercing his flesh. The cup, not a particularly valuable item, had been Lysandre’s. Augustine had bought it for him on a day trip to Kiloude City. It was a joke gift, emblazoned with the words “Hot Stuff” and a little cartoon Pyroar. Lysandre had laughed but still refused to have it in his house. So it stayed in Augustine’s apartment, ready for him whenever he stayed round. Now, it was in pieces, much like the man who’d thrown it.

"You can’t just come back from the dead to tell me how to live my life," Augustine hissed. "Like you’re my conscience or something."

"I apologise, for that was never my intent. Nor did I come here for forgiveness or to upset you. I just wanted… My only wish is to see you happy and healthy because I still… You’re a smart man, Augustine, I’m sure you know why that’s my one desire."

Augustine froze at his words. Part of him desperately wanted to look up at him through thick dark lashes, let out a breath and sweetly say “I love you too, Lysandre. Always have and always will. Now, carry me to bed and make love to me and never stop”.

But the rest of him knew that he had to restrain himself and reign in his desires. After all, it had been almost a year since they’d last seen each other. And how could he trust someone who had failed to mention intent of genocide? He had to put up defences to protect his principals and his sanity.

\--

Augustine heard sobbing. He didn’t realise it was coming from himself until Lysandre mopped at his eyes and nose with a handkerchief.

"Maybe you need a bath to relax," the taller man suggested.

"I had a bath in the evening," he replied, snatching the handkerchief and blowing his nose for himself, before stuffing it in his breast pocket with the key. "They don’t really relax me so much these days. There’s only one thing that seems to do that."

He dove into some kitchen drawers before finding a discreet carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He put one between his lips, lit it and seemed almost instantaneously calm. He felt like the hot noxious fumes were burning away his unwanted thoughts and feelings.

Lysandre couldn’t help but snigger.

"Is there a problem?" Augustine hissed, one hand on his hip, the other perched on the counter, flicking ashes in the general direction of a small glass ashtray.

"Non, I was simply reminded of the first time you asked to try one of my cigarettes. And how you practically choked on it."

Augustine simply smoked and frowned at him in response. He felt he’d lose his nerve if he joined in the nostalgia trip, explaining that he had only tried smoking all those years ago to make Lysandre think he was cool… As well as make him think about what else he could put in his mouth. Just thinking about it was making Augustine feel uncomfortable. He turned away from Lysandre and carried on smoking.

–

“I am serious about you trying to get some sleep though. No offence but you look awful.”

"Merci," he growled. "And why are you so hellbent on me going to sleep? So you can escape? Because I’ve told you, I will call the police!"

Lysandre looked at him quizzically, as though he was determining the other man’s chess strategy. “So you keep saying, but when exactly are you planning to do that? I’ve been here for however long and you could’ve made the call at any time. I’ve already told you that I am prepared to turn myself in.”

Augustine was floored for a moment. His morals and his desires raged on in battle within him. He was right. He should’ve called the police the moment a dangerous wanted criminal appeared on his doorstep. But he wanted to keep him for himself. After standing with his mouth agape for a short while, he forced himself to reply, trying desperately to stifle the blush on his already tear reddened cheeks. 

“It was raining out there, I didn’t want you to go into a cell cold and tired. It’s just human decency, that’s all. I’ll run you a bath, I’ll put your clothes in the washer dryer and you can sleep for a few hours, but come daylight, I’ll call them.”

The redhead gave a sincere grin.

Augustine ran a bath for Lysandre and questioned his life choices. When it was ready, he handed the man a towel then left the bathroom immediately. He searched for a dustpan and brush then, having located them, dropped to his knees and picked up the remains of the smashed cup. He felt bad for smashing it now, thinking about the stupid nostalgia and the even more stupid decline of his own emotional restraint. Having tipped the remains of the cup into the bin, he sighed and made himself some coffee.

\--

Augustine had just about finished his cup of coffee when Lysandre emerged from the bathroom, gloriously naked save for the towel barely able to cover his exquisite waist. The professor cursed himself for the way he drank in the sight. The redhead was still as divinely sculptured as ever, well-defined muscles and bounteous fiery hairs indicating points of interest. He was a classic portrait of masculinity.

"Could I borrow your bathrobe?"

'No,' thought Augustine. 'Covering that body would be the true crime here.'

"Of course," he replied, trying to appear nonchalant but not quite managing. "It should be on that hook on the bathroom door."

"Merci," he said, disappearing momentarily back into the bathroom.

He reemerged a few seconds later, wearing a Liepard print fleece dressing gown that, due to Lysandre’s impressive size, wasn’t any more concealing than the towel had been. For which Augustine was particularly grateful.

"And I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed some lotions. Though, I am fairly certain that they were mine to begin with…"

Augustine sniffed and could smell a distantly familiar regal scent. As it softly caressed his nostrils, he could pick up hints of Kalosian Vanilla as well as some other gently intermingling notes. The freshly remembered scent had a positively Pavlovian effect on poor defenceless Augustine. Fragranced memories assaulted his increasingly fragile mind, mostly of approaching Lysandre straight after a bath, sometimes even while he was still in the bath, and demanding to be taken right that second. It took the last of his willpower to resist doing the same again. He couldn’t look at him anymore.

“It’s fine,” Augustine finally replied, his voice a higher pitch than before. “So did you want to go to bed?” As soon as he heard himself mutter that out loud, his face turned white as blood flushed elsewhere. “Merde! You know what I mean!”

 

Lysandre chuckled and repressed the urge to caress the mortified man’s adorable face. He was always so… embarrassingly cute when he got flustered. “So, should I sleep on the couch?”

"Non non, you can have the bed," he replied quietly and slowly. He didn’t really trust his mouth anymore. "These days, I work best in catnaps on the couch."

The taller man gave him another concerned look. He felt that Augustine really needed some looking after.

"I’m sure you remember where the bedroom is," he carried on, still looking away. "Make yourself comfortable and I’ll put your clothes by the door when they’re dry."

"Thank you, Augustine. Your hospitality is more than I deserve."  
He looked at Augustine (or at least his back) for a few moments before leaving for the bedroom.

Augustine started crying again as he went to pick Lysandre’s clothes off the bathroom floor. He carried on crying as he put them in the dryer, then went to lie on his back on the couch. There, he clasped his left hand round his mouth as he guiltily put his right hand down the front of his pyjama pants. He stroked himself softly, trying to will away the image of Lysandre in his mind.

\--

Lysandre entered the bedroom to find that hardly anything had changed since the last time he’d been there. Piles of clothes and assorted paperwork cluttered the room and he tripped over a couple of Pokémon plush toys. The bed was the only neat thing in the room.

The only thing in the room that had changed, he noticed sadly, was that several photo frames had been turned face down. He knew exactly why. They were pictures of him. He picked one frame up on the bedside table. The picture was of him and Augustine at the opening of the Lysandre Café Lysandre remembered why he was smiling so brightly in that photo, as well as pride in his grand new business venture, he was going to cook a delicious meal for Augustine that night and then he was going to tell him how much he loved him and how he never wanted to leave his side.

He cursed himself for everything he’d done wrong since then. Then he was alarmed to hear sobbing. He put the photo frame back in it’s place then left the room, desperate to know that Augustine was going to be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

"Augustine?"

The professor flinched away from him, raising both hands in the air.

"I’m not strong enough to deal with this!" he cried out.

"Please calm down. Deal with what?"

He merely gestured towards himself in general. Lysandre’s eyes scanned over him through the darkness. All seemed like it was before until… He finally noticed that Augustine was nursing a fierce erection. He was mildly surprised, but also secretly pleased.

"Augustine…" was all Lysandre could say. His voice was little more than a reverential murmur. He sat down next to him and they looked at each other nervously for a moment. The air between them felt too heavy, like the static between them had destroyed the laws of gravity.

"Lysandre…" Augustine whispered, having already used up the last of his willpower. He was now a slave to his emotions.

"I didn’t come back to seduce you," he told him sadly, trying to exert enough restraint for both of them. He dug his nails into the fabric of the couch.

"And I told myself I’d never see you again," Augustine growled. 

He manoeuvred himself around so he was straddling the other mans lap then started kissing him viciously. He felt he had to fight for his prize, so he bit Lysandre's lip, put one hand on his shoulder and the other clutched into his hair. 

Lysandre froze into place, feeling that he had to prevent the inevitable. But the nipping at his lip was becoming more than he could bear... and then Augustine started grinding his hips against him. He was pushed over the edge and there was no turning back. His hands sprung from the couch, up onto Augustine’s shoulders, burying his nails between the shoulder blades. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, pressing his tongue against those hot lips which opened for him and even rewarded him with a debauched moan.

Augustine drank in Lysandre’s hungry kisses like a fine wine; rich, delicious and intoxicating. The hand that was in the man's hair slid down in a torturously slow descent, starting around the elegant curve of his neck, pausing to press teasingly at his Adams apple before tracing over the chiselled ridges of his collarbone. His hand continued it's trail, tauntingly avoiding the nipples and quickly gathering speed as the tongue in his mouth melted away any patience he had left. The professor's hand shot down to untie the dressing gown, pushing it aside to caress the cock he'd selfishly yearned for. 

Lysandre grunted, sliding his hands down Augustine’s back, trying to keep him from making any rash movements. But the smaller man was too nimble and too desperate to be stopped. He pushed the larger man's legs apart and slid down between them, so he was kneeling in front of him. Lysandre could feel his heart beating in his throat, threatening to choke him as he looked down at Augustine’s lust clouded eyes and his dangerous mouth, already wet and pink from kissing so fiercely.

"Augustine, you don't have to-" he started, trying to stop him before they hurtled any deeper into oblivion.

"You think I'm doing this for you?" he panted, digging his nails into Lysandre’s thighs, pulling himself forward. His mouth was so perilously close that the other man could feel the warmth of his breath on his already aching erection. "I think I missed your body more than I missed you."

Lysandre started to chuckle but was soon interrupted by Augustine’s naughty mouth kissing the tip of his cock before flattening his tongue against it and running it up and down his shaft. The redhead thought for a moment that maybe he had actually died and that now, in heaven, he was being pleasured by angels...

But he knew that Augustine Sycamore was no angel, especially not with the sinful way he was now sucking on him. A gorgeous fallen angel perhaps...

Augustine loved the feeling of spreading his lips over that thick hard cock. He bobbed up and down slowly at first, his eyes closed rapturously, reacquainting himself with the thrill. When he felt a little more confident, he moved one hand from a thigh and slapped it to one of Lysandre’s arse cheeks and the other hand moved to join the mouth around his cock. The man cried out at this divine double assault then breathed heavily as this wonderful man between his legs brought him increasingly devastating pleasure. He couldn't help but entwine a hand through that dark slick hair. It took all his willpower not to tug and push him further. 

Augustine, however, was more than willing to be pushed further and did so of his own volition. With the one hand stroking whatever he couldn't reach, including his sac, he took a deep breath and relaxed his throat as best he could. He then took in as much of Lysandre as he could, almost accidentally choking himself. Lysandre couldn't help but moan with guilty pleasure at the vibrations, but he still found himself stroking at his hair apologetically. Augustine was suddenly struck with his earlier 'Don't you dare pity me!' attitude and, as a result, continued his assault without mercy. He moved faster, he forced himself to go deeper, his hand on Lysandre’s buttock dug in with blunt fingernails.

At this pace, it was no time at all before Lysandre pulled Augustine’s head from his cock, as he clamped his other hand round the base.

"You have to stop or I'm going to cum," he panted, his voice raspy with desperation.

Augustine looked annoyed. "That is half the point, mon cher."

"You don't have to. You've already given me more pleasure than I deserve."

The professor practically growled. He was now completely possessed by his own arousal. "As I have already stated, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because I want to. I want to make you cum. And I want you to cum in my mouth or on my face."

Lysandre winced in several levels of agony. His words came out as little more than grunts. "I can't defile you like that, not after all I've done..."

Now somewhere between determined and sadistic, Augustine grabbed both of his hands and pinned them back to his sides with his forearms, so he could continue using his hands to assist his mouth. As soon as he was able, he returned to his task with the same unrelenting pace.

It was mere moments before Lysandre was seeing stars and crying to the moon. He spilled in frenzied pulses which Augustine ecstatically lapped up. Once spent, Lysandre weakly pulled Augustine up, prompting him to lie on the couch with him. The smaller man obliged, smiling at him like a Delcatty. Lysandre noticed some stray drops of his essence around his mouth but when he lifted his hand to wipe it away, Augustine’s rebellious tongue shot out and licked it away. The redhead wrapped his arms around him, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead, waiting for his body to stop trembling and his heart to stop fighting it's way out of his chest.

\--

When Lysandre felt like he could breathe again, he squeezed the man in his arms then kissed him sweetly. "Let me return the favour?"

Augustine kissed him back then sat up. "Okay. On my bed," he replied blissfully. He stood up, then started sauntering away, slowly undoing the buttons of his pyjama shirt as he went. 

Once he reached the doorway, he popped open the final button and threw the shirt to the floor. Then, looking back over his shoulder with a devious grin, he made sure Lysandre was watching and started palming himself through his pyjama trousers, moaning in part at the pleasant friction and also to further encourage the other man. He did not need much encouragement as he almost immediately stood up and stalked after him, loosely retying the dressing gown as he went.

\--

In the bedroom, the main light had been turned off in favour of a lamp on the bedside table. Augustine sat at the head of the bed with his chin resting coquettishly on his knees tucked up in front of him, with his hands to his sides. Lysandre approached the bed, licking his lips, then crawled over his lover.

"So, you still have your pyjama bottoms on?" he grinned, pulling at the waistband.

"So I have," Augustine purred, spreading his legs invitingly. He rubbed his nose against Lysandre's. 

"Mon dieu, Augustine, I've missed you so much," he whispered, his lips to the other man's. Rubbing along his hip bone, he pulled teasingly at the waistband again. "I've been such a fool and I don't think I can ever adequately make it up to you."

"You don't need to make it up to me," he smiled coyly, loosely wrapping his arms around the other's neck. He reflected for a short moment on his earlier protests and realised how futile they'd been. Now feeling giddy and strangely liberated, he took a shallow breath then arched his back to whisper in his ear. "Just make love to me!"

Lysandre unfurled Augustine’s arms and backed away, resting on his heels. His expression turned grave.

Augustine saw the reaction and turned frantic. He sat up, clutching to the collar of the dressing gown he was still wearing, placing desperate little kisses around his mouth, which the other man didn't return.  
"Lysandre?" he whispered meekly, feeling like he would shatter into a million pieces depending on whatever the man said next.

"I can't do that," he replied sadly. He couldn't look at him as he said this. 

Augustine felt that his entire existence had been invalidated. He fell back against the bed, as though he'd been turned to stone. Destroying the world with an ancient ultimate weapon suddenly seemed like a legitimate course of action for the destroyed professor.  
"Of course not. I was joking. Of course. I should get back to my couch. Like I said, I'll put your clothes by the door when they're dry," he muttered rapidly, desperately avoiding eye contact.

He moved to swing his legs off the bed but was stopped. Lysandre pinned his wrists to the bed.  
"Would you let me finish?!" the redhead roared. This stopped his squirming for a moment. "I can't adequately make love to you in this situation. We are calling the police in the morning. They will take me in on charges of attempted genocide and avoiding arrest. We will be separated again and it is all my fault! I don't want to hurt you by allowing you what I can't reliably give you."

Augustine was silenced for a moment. Then came cracks in the stone, revealing an even bigger volcano than before. He started with a scream as he took hold of the wrists pinning him down and used them as leverage, flipping them over and pinning Lysandre to the bed.

"Don't you dare tell me what I can be hurt by! Maybe if you'd had this little chat with your conscience before you decided to become a Saturday morning cartoon villain, we wouldn't be in this ridiculous situation! You spout all this crap about 'never being able to make it up to me', but you're not even willing to try! If you were truly concerned about sparing my feelings, then what do you think you have just done? Sure, blow jobs are all in good fun but I wanted to make love with you because I still... I asked you for that and you rejected me! Do you have any idea how hurtful and humiliating that is? Make up your damn mind!!!"

Lysandre put a hand to his mouth. He couldn't look at the other man for a moment.

\--

"I am truly a fool."

"At last we agree on something," Augustine growled, rolling off of Lysandre, lying next to him with a stormy scowl. Still desperately aroused, despite or possibly because of his anger, he slid a hand back down into his pyjama trousers and resumed his tentative touches. 

"You don't need to do that," Lysandre said quietly, sitting up and returning his gaze to the other man's face.

"Again with my needs?" he replied with an embittered grunt. "You have lost any right to an opinion on the matter."

"I followed you to bed intending to repay you," he stated. Slowly, softly, cautiously, his hand followed Augustine’s, underneath his waistband. "Allow me that much?"

Augustine looked at him angrily, but made no immediate effort to shoo his hand away.  
"At this stage," he growled. "I want all or nothing. Fuck me or fuck off."

The words hit Lysandre like a slap in the face. He pulled his hand from Augustine’s and put it to his chin as he thought.  
"That's quite the ultimatum," he muttered.

Augustine wordlessly pulled off his pyjama bottoms and carried on glaring at him. As he threw them off the side of the bed, he reached for the drawer of his bedside table, pulling out a small pump bottle of lubricant and a string of metallic condom wrappers. He sat the bottle next to him on the bed, waved the condoms between his middle and index fingers then lay back down, resting on his forearms.

"So, if you are that insistent that I take you..." he replied slowly, trying to remain in control of the situation. "We'll have to wait."

Augustine was surprised by this latest wave of anger. He knew himself as a man who was laid back, almost to the point of being a pushover. He was certain that he was never so easily angered before he'd lost Lysandre.  
"Haven't I waited long enough? Why on earth should I wait any longer?"

"Have you never heard of a refractory period?" he whispered, looking away. He blushed a little, still a victim of his own pride. 

His pride and masculinity took a further beating when Augustine responded with a snigger that quickly evolved into a deep laugh.

"Keep that up and no one's having sex ever again," Lysandre warned.

"Keep what up?" he smirked in response. He leant forward and kissed him on the lips. 

Lysandre couldn't help but smile at him. Augustine’s laughter had always been infectious. That curl of his lips always led to a disastrous loss of control. Right now was no exception. He pulled off the dressing gown, grabbed the other man by the hips and lifted him on top of him. "Just take me, Augustine. "

Augustine grinned sincerely for a split second. His frown faded back onto his face as he carefully tore open a condom wrapper.  
"I'm still really angry with you though," he barked, carefully extracting then rolling on the condom. "So, I'm not going to be a kind and attentive lover. Also, I've been on the edge for so long and it's been a long time since I've done this... So... I'm not going to last."

Lysandre carried on smiling at him, which Augustine did not appreciate at that moment.

"Now, hands and knees!" He ordered, letting his new angry persona take over. "I don't want to see your face. "

While Lysandre rolled obediently onto his stomach and propped himself up into position, Augustine started preparing the lube. He started by slicking up his cock, hissing at the cold liquid. With the next handful, he warmed it up by rubbing it between his hands. 

Kneeling behind the other man, he spread his firm buttocks and stroked at familiar muscles with a curious gentility. He started softly probing with one finger, letting his tactile memories guide him before working in the second.

"That doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked, already panting. 

"It's fine, it feels nice, but whatever happened to the unkind, inattentive approach you proposed?" he replied, practically purring.

Irritated by his impudence, he started stretching him roughly, ignoring his instinctual desire to worship and pleasure. Both men grunted at the change of pace.

After a somewhat adequate amount of preparation, Augustine pulled out his fingers and used that hand to hold firmly onto one of Lysandre’s cheeks. He spat perfunctorily into the other hand and used it to guide his cock, between the firm cheeks then nudging eagerly at the now slick ring of muscle. He moved that hand to hold the other man in place with a tight grip on his hip. He used this to support his inching descent into maddeningly tight sumptuousness. 

When he was as deep as he could go, he had to stay still for a moment, for fear that the all consuming jolts of pleasure would make him cum in an instant. 

He almost forgot that the source of this delight was a person, until Lysandre started pushing back against him, trying to encourage him. Augustine let out a low whine then kissed the man's shoulder before finally pulling back and thrusting languidly back in. 

He carried on kissing up his neck as he continued his lazy thrusts. Lysandre whimpered at each little kiss then moaned luxuriantly as the kisses were joined by sharp teeth grazing at his skin.

Augustine felt powerful, as though he were fuelled by the cries of his prey. With this renewed vigour, he sped up his thrusts and moved his hand from Lysandre’s arse to his chest, tangling his fingers in bounteous fiery hair. He had to bite him harder to keep pretty words avec l'amour spilling from his mouth.

At this new pace, it was mere moments before Augustine saw white and froze, his fingers clenching around hip bone and hair. He sunk his teeth back into Lysandre’s shoulder, again to stop his thoughts escaping through his mouth and making themselves known. 

Once Augustine rode through his orgasm, he pulled out and flopped bonelessly back onto his side of the bed, taking off the condom and throwing it aside, to deal with later . Trembling slightly, Lysandre retrieved the blanket that had fallen off the bed in all the frenzy and wrapped it around Augustine and himself, lying close to his dear professor. Augustine lazily stretched out to turn off the lamp, then rolled into Lysandre's arms, kissing him softly on the lips before tucking himself under the other man's chin. 

For now, words were meaningless and all that mattered was bathing in each other's warmth.


	3. Chapter 3

Some time a little later, though both men teetered on the edge of dozing off, Augustine started speaking softly as he nuzzled against Lysandre's broad chest.  
"I really did miss you."

"Augustine..." was all he could say. He held the man tighter and stroked at his hair.

"I had to arrange your funeral," he whispered, trying not to break down again. "Can you imagine that?"

"Non, mon ange," he replied, a rare tear running down his cheek. Usually so verbally well prepared, speechlessness felt suffocating to Lysandre.

"If you ever need an ego stroke, I have a notebook full of drafts from when I was writing your eulogy," he smiled sadly. He had to curl his fingers into red chest hair, to confirm that yes, Lysandre was alive, Lysandre was here and Lysandre was his (if only for one night).

"Mon dieu... I... Augustine... I never meant... Not you. .."

Augustine could feel Lysandre’s guilt, in the acceleration of his heartbeat, in the wavering of his voice and in the ever tightening grip with which he held him, as though he were terrified that he could escape.

\--

He leant up to kiss him on the lips, punctuating that topic of conversation. All that could wait until daylight. He then smiled an infectiously peaceful smile at him. Lysandre smiled back before enveloping him in a tender embrace.

As their bodies entwined, they began innocently touching each other, mapping every curve and plane, committing everything to memory.

Lips soon replaced fingertips on their respective explorations. They curled and rolled around each other, smiling and sighing.

Eventually, innocent kisses became decidedly less innocent, as they kissed up each other's thighs. They both twitched with reemerging excitement.

"Can we?" Lysandre asked, smiling with a shyness that seemed foreign on his noble features.

"What are you even asking?!" Augustine found himself replying in a breathy giggle. "I don't know what you're referring to!"

The trail of kisses continued upwards, but almost painfully slowly. "Soixante-neuf. Climb on top of me."

Augustine wanted to play coy. He wanted to balance out how shameless he'd been over the past few hours. He wanted to prove to himself that he was capable of restraint.

But he could never say no to this man, especially not when he was offering a chance to merge as one, like yin and yang. Two parts of one whole. He thought fleetingly of tales he'd heard of Reshiram and Zekrom, as well as the shell of a being they'd left behind ('Like me without him...').

Wordlessly, but with some protest from various joints and muscles, he climbed over Lysandre, letting the other man's strong hands guide him into position. Already slightly short of breath, he craned his neck to reach his taller partner's enviable dick. He started with kisses but opened his mouth immediately after he felt Lysandre mouth at him.

Oh, that talented mouth... Just kissing those lips was usually enough to leave Augustine trembling, but wrapped around his cock... Oh Arceus, it was beyond maddening.

It was hard to focus on his own intended task as Lysandre skilfully licked and sucked at him, overwhelming him with such pleasure that he could do little more than quiver, cry out and mutter swearwords. He tried using these involuntary movements to his advantage, trying to utilise the vibrations rather than be incapacitated by them.

–

As much as he relished the idea of this position, in practice, Augustine felt that he couldn't live up to his role. He was fairly certain he'd come to a collapsing climax before he could even begin to make Lysandre feel good. It was with this thought that he wistfully pulled himself up then climbed off of the the other man. He sat up with his legs beneath him. Lysandre sprang up from his position.

"Tu te sens bien?!" he asked, caressing his cheek, taking hold of one of his hands and looking into his silver eyes, praying not to see pain or regret within them.

"Oh, ça va!" He laughed sheepishly, rubbing at the hand that held his. "Je suis desolè, just I almost forgot how good you were at. .. alors, _that_." He leant forward for a kiss.

Glowing with relief, Lysandre accepted this sweet kiss, then smiled brightly as he continued caressing his cheek and hand.

"Augustine, what if I had wanted you to... Oh, how did you word it? Oh yes, what if I'd wanted you to 'cum in my mouth or on my face'?"

Hearing his own shameless vulgarities in that noble voice was overwhelmingly erotic to Augustine. He moaned, returning to hungrily kissing him, desperately slipping his tongue into his mouth and squeezing his hand.

-

While kissing this exquisite dark-haired man beside him, Lysandre reached behind him, grabbing for the bottle of lubricant and string of condoms from their earlier activity. He pressed them into the side of Augustine’s leg, pulling his mouth away reluctantly from his lover's delicious lips.

Augustine looked up at him with a lusty haze in his eyes and his lips delightfully ravished. Lysandre nodded in the direction of the items at his side. He looked down at them then shot back up.

"You're going to fuck me?" he asked excitedly, his eyes glimmering with hope. He began rubbing eagerly at his partner's thighs.

"Non," he replied firmly. He then pounced, pushing him into the mattress, kissing him deeply before he could show any disappointment or indignance.

\-- 

When they at last broke for air, Augustine parted his mouth to voice his confusion. Lysandre put a finger to his lips with one hand and picked up the string of condoms with the other.

"I am not going to 'fuck' you, as you so crassly put it," the redhead purred. He took his finger from the Professor's lips and opened the next condom wrapper. "If you'll permit me, I want to make love to you."

Augustine's heart felt it had been lit up with fireworks. He shot up for another passionate kiss, one hand woven in Lysandre's now wildly messy hair and the other retrieving the condom from its packet. He went to roll it rapturously down Lysandre’s length, but even with two hands, he was trembling too much from anticipation to be able to do it adequately.

Lysandre moved to help him but Augustine batted his hand away in frustration.  
"I don't know about you, but you're the only person I've slept with in over ten years," the dark-haired man sighed, throwing the condom aside. He put his face in his hands, trying to hide that he was starting to cry again. His eyes were growing sore and tired.

"I know my word doesn't count for much," he replied, trying to pry Augustine's hands from his face. "But I haven't been intimate with anyone but you, since we first succumbed to each other, all those years ago. How could I settle for anything else, having tasted perfection?"

Augustine let his hands fall to his lap and a euphoric smile grace his lips.  
"Can we forgo the condom then?"

"If you're fine with that." The resulting enthusiastic nod made Lysandre chuckle softly. "All right then, but you'll need to let me prepare you _thoroughly_. So, if you start whining with any of your 'fuck me, harder, faster, deeper', before I deem you to be ready, I'm going to ignore you. I might even stop completely until you calm down."

Those strong words in that authoritative tone of voice... Augustine shivered and moaned before kissing Lysandre once more and falling back against the bed. All his dreams were becoming reality once again.

Lysandre began his preparations by gathering and arranging pillows and cushions. Augustine had to bite his tongue, finding this step to be excessive, especially the pillow beneath his lower back and buttocks. The redhead finished arranging the soft furnishings then positioned himself between the professor's legs, licked his own fingers and started stroking softly and slowly around his lover's entrance, eliciting a pleased sigh.

As the dark-haired man relaxed, he closed his eyes and bathed in the pleasant sensations. He didn’t even notice that Lysandre was half-hanging off the bed, with his feet just touching the ground and his face nearing his attentive fingers.

It took a moment for Augustine to register that another appendage had joined the two moist fingers that were massaging him. Not until it started gently probing and - Arceus almighty! Fingers aren't that deliciously pliant!  
He moaned loudly and drew his knees up, giving the silver-tongued devil a slightly easier angle.

Lysandre had always loved pleasuring him in this way, there was something so potent about the intimacy of it. And the sounds Augustine would make... His impassioned cries and desperate moans made such beautiful music that a Siren's song would be put to shame.  
And back when they shared a more regular sex life, this particular act didn't occur too often. It was generally saved for special occasions. This was, without a doubt a _very_ special occasion.

He playfully pushed his tongue in and out, lightly stretching at the muscles and alighting the sensitive nerve endings with pleasure. Deciding to be just a little bit more deliciously cruel, he began to stroke the man's hard cock before squeezing at the base, which rewarded him with a faint cry of "Fils de pute!"  
This cry reminded him of his own throbbing need but also of his promise. So, giving one last indulgent thrust of his tongue then pulling away, he gave the trembling man a chance to cool down while he sat up, dispensed some lube and warmed it up between his hands.

Augustine felt alight with pleasure and overwhelmed with emotions. He fought the urge to scream out in passion, to cry out and beg for more, remembering Lysandre's warning. But as he regained some presence of mind, he realised that Lysandre was already carrying out his "punishment", making him calm down, when he hadn't even broken the rules... He writhed around, demanding the other man's full attention.

"Lysandre. Please don't make me wait. I need you."

Lysandre looked down at him, his mouth suddenly dryer than the Lumiose Badlands and his eyes now excruciatingly wide.  
Augustine currently looked like he should be pictured next to the dictionary definition for the word "debauched".  
His eyes had evolved from a lusty haze to a passionate intensity. His mouth, with his lips between his teeth, was a fiery lipstick red. His usually smooth porcelain skin, now prickled with goosebumps, flushed an erotic pink and shimmering with a layer of sweat. His beautiful hands were tensed and pulling at his beautiful raven hair. His knees were still drawn up against his body, presenting himself in all his glory, his proudly erect cock leaking pre cum.

Lysandre imagined himself to appear in a similar state of ruination, he certainly felt like it. Patience and righteousness wearing thin, he grabbed hold of one of Augustine's perfectly tensed thighs with one hand and started fingering him in earnest with the other. He leant forward and started kissing him once again, unable to choose between sweetly tender and violently passionate, so he alternated between them.

Augustine cried out at this latest assault on his senses. He didn't know how much more he could take. He had to shoot one of his hands from his hair straight to his cock.  
"Lys, mon cher, I can't last much longer," he whimpered. "Can we slow down... but without slowing down?"

Lysandre kissed him tenderly again, moving his hand from his thigh to his face.  
"Je t'aime tout mon coeur," he whispered against his lips. "Je ne comptais pas te blesser... "

A dam burst and the two men were swept away in a tide of love for each other.  
They kissed tenderly, stroking each other's faces with one hand.  
Lysandre removed his busied fingers and started dispensing and warming lubricant in his hands once more.

"Do you think you can handle me yet?" He asked quietly. "Or would I hurt you?"

"Hmmm, I can take it," he murmured. "Do try to remember that I'm not that delicate."

"I know you're not. You're a stronger man than I, of that I'm certain," he whispered, as he coated his throbbing prick in lube. "Just I never want to cause you pain again."

Augustine couldn't decide whether to reply to this honestly, mentioning the hurt to come with the inescapable trials ahead, or cheekily, heavily implying his affinity for spankings and other such nice little pains.  
In the end, he decided that the most appropriate response was also the simplest. He stayed silent, closed his eyes and kissed him, rolling his hips in invitation.

Lysandre returned the kiss as he gripped his hip and finally, slowly, attentively pushed into him. He met some resistance, worrying a little that he may be hurting him, but the squeezing around him made it deliciously impossible to stop. He couldn’t help but groan lusciously into the other man's mouth.

Likewise, the gradual stretching felt like heaven to Augustine, letting his keening sounds mingle with those of his lover's. He wrapped his arms and legs around him, still kissing him, finally one with him again.

When at last completely buried within his beloved, Lysandre steadied his hips for a moment and moved his kisses down to that sweet neck. He worshipped the pulse against his lips, grateful for the life it rhythmically supported. There weren't enough gods in heaven or stars in the sky for him to thank for this man. He prayed to soak up some of his pure good without tainting him with his own inner demons.

Refocusing his attentions, he trailed his kisses back up to his mouth, put his arms around him and started pulling out a little before jerking back with small thrusts, rewarding him with an erotic yell.

Between the physical feeling of fullness and the emotional sensations too intense for him to describe, Augustine felt complete again. He wrapped himself tighter around Lysandre, ensuring that they were as close as physically possible. He bit Lysandre's lip then slipped his tongue into his mouth, disregarding where the tongue had been moments before, mapping every inch of the man, so he could relive this moment forever. He observed that his own face was wet, leading him to assume that he must've been crying again. Which was true, but it had never dawned on him that Lysandre’s tears flowed just as readily, perhaps more so, as his own.

Unable to hold back, and fairly certain that Augustine would start fussing if he didn't hurry, Lysandre started angling his hips and strengthened his thrusts. He knew he'd found the spot he'd been aiming for, when Augustine's mouth parted from his to shout his name against his ear before biting the fleshy lobe. As he tensed around him, Lysandre joined the euphoric chorus.

_Lysandre Augustine Lysandre Augustine Je'taime tellement Je'taime trop_   
_LYSANDRE  
 _AUGUSTINE  
 _JE'TAIME TELLEMENT  
 _JE'TAIME TROP____


	4. Chapter 4

They crashed into each other like waves in a stormy sea, drowning in the love they shared.

Trembling and whimpering, they rocked against each other through the aftershocks of their mutual orgasm. Soft kisses of each others lips and gentle stroking of hair and skin. 

They pulled away after a few heavenly moments, evidence of their tryst coated their stomachs and trickled down Augustine's thighs. He languidly reached for the bedside table, pulling a handful of tissues from a box. He dropped them on the bed, apart from a couple which he used to mop up his and Lysandre's soiled torsos. Lysandre picked up some tissues and tenderly cleaned between Augustines legs.

After their somewhat adequate attempts at cleaning each other up, Augustine pulled the blanket up over them as Lysandre pulled him into his arms.

"Mon grand," Augustine whispered.

"Mon petit," Lysandre replied.

\-- 

The digital clock on the bedside table flashed 09:00. It had been so long since he'd slept in his bed, that Augustine had almost forgot that he had a digital clock. And he definitely couldn't remember the last time he'd slept that peacefully. In the blurriness of still being half-asleep, it took Augustine a moment to remember what had happened. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, a dull ache in his backside reminded him of all he needed to know. He smiled to himself as he remembered the finer details of the night.

Then he felt as though his blood had run dry. Lysandre was no longer in the bed. The man was also still considered a dangerous fugitive. After everything they'd shared last night... He wouldn't run off like that, would he?

Realising the urgency of the situation, he got up and put his pyjama trousers on. With a slight limp, he moved as quickly as he could to hunt for clues. First, he picked up his pyjama shirt and checked the breast pocket: The key was still there, but he knew better than to ever underestimate Lysandre. The man was supposed to be dead, but Augustine’s throbbing posterior suggested otherwise.

He continued his search, checking the front door to the apartment. Still locked. He was now particularly confused. Leaning his back against the cool wood of the door, Augustine tried to make sense of anything. Through his thinking, the only realisation he stumbled upon was that he needed the bathroom. With a disappointed sigh, he headed in that direction.

Approaching the bathroom, he heard running water (and swore loudly, realising that he was actually getting quite desperate). He slid the door open to find Lysandre, still gloriously naked, standing by the bath taps. 

"Ah, you're awake!" The man announced with a smile after hearing the door creak.

"You're still here," he replied, not quite awake enough to mentally manage observation, bodily needs and tact all at once yet.

Lysandre turned the taps off (which Augustine was particularly grateful for) and gave him a sad look. "You thought I..."

"Alors, I woke up and you weren't there," he explained, squirming where he stood. He couldn’t look him in the face. "There were only a few conclusions I could draw from that."

"I am sorry if I made you worry," he said, stepping forward and caressing his face. Augustine flinched, causing Lysandre to panic. "Augustine, please, I know you have no reason to trust me but let me assure you, I'm not leaving your apartment unless I'm leaving in handcuffs."

The mental image of Lysandre in handcuffs was the last straw.  
"Right, Lysandre, I need you to leave the room right now," he barked.

"Please, I just-"

"Lys, I need the bathroom, so unless you want me to wet myself, out!"

Lysandre chuckled a little, mostly appeased. He gave Augustine a quick peck on the lips and a cheeky slap to the backside then did as he was told.

-

Once Augustine was finished, he left the bathroom appearing to be in a state of zen-like tranquility. He smiled at Lysandre then kissed him.

"Better?" The redhead chuckled again.

"Better," he replied, smiling sheepishly. "So, I think I forgot to say good morning!"

Lysandre pulled him into a bear hug. "I think I can forgive you for that. But yes, I'm sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I didn't really think that through. Just you looked so beautifully peaceful that I couldn't bring myself to wake you."

"How long have you been awake?" he asked, returning the hug, with a bonus cheeky butt squeeze.

"I swear you're actually some kind of naughty nymph creature," he muttered, kissing the top of his head. He ruffled his hair then spoke up to answer the question. "But I haven't been awake long. I've been up long enough to clean my teeth - don't look so worried, I found my old overnight bag in the cupboard under the sink - I took my clothes out of the washer dryer, ironed them and started running a bath for you. So whatever can be said about me, no one can say I'm an unthoughtful house guest."

Augustine snuggled against his chest. He felt safe and loved, in a way he'd forgotten could be possible. 

-  
Lysandre pulled away from his darling professor, slowly and cautiously.

"How about I finish running your bath?" He chuckled. "I put some of that 'Royale Gallade' lotion in there."

"That vanillery stuff?!?!" he asked again, more than a little excited. "Then you have to share the bath with me!"

Lysandre couldn't help but laugh again.  
"Why did you never mention that my body lotion turned you into a Pavlovian test subject?"

"And deprive you the thrill of the chase?" he giggled, treating himself to another squeeze of Lysandre's firm arse. "Enfin bref, while you run the bath, I'll make us some coffee."

Lysandre chuckled a little, remembering the man's endearing habit of bringing cups of coffee with him wherever he went and whatever he was doing. A memory flashed of the man drinking coffee with one hand and languidly pleasuring himself with the other. His heart swelled with affection.

-

Once Augustine returned to the bathroom with two cups of coffee, he smiled sheepishly.  
"Sorry it isn't anywhere near up to your usual standards."

Lysandre kissed him softly and took one of the cups from him.  
"Merci beaucoup, you exquisite eccentric, you." He drank a little and smiled, then put it down on the wider ridge of the bath. "It's fine. Now, why are those awful pyjama bottoms back on?"

Augustine laughed self-deprecatingly and blushed. He stared at the cup in his hands, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

Lysandre took the cup from his hands and put it down next to his. He pinched at the pyjama waistband and pulled Augustine close to him.  
"I love you so much. Whatever happens, please don't forget that."

Augustine stood on tiptoes to kiss him gratefully on the forehead. Standing flat again, he winced, remembering his throbbing derrière.

Lysandre noticed the grimace and empathised, feeling a slight ache himself. He knelt down and slowly helped him step out of his pyjama bottoms. Standing back up, he ran chaste hands over Augustine's body for a moment then helped him get into the soothingly hot bubble bath, before finally joining him.

-

Initially, they sat at either end of the bath and drank their coffee. Before long, coffee cups pushed aside, Lysandre beckoned Augustine over, and he scrambled over without question, lying between his legs, resting his head against his chest. They lazily washed each other, leaving sporadic little kisses wherever they could reach.

"I've missed this," Augustine sighed contentedly. "Do you remember that bath we shared after I got back from studying in Sinnoh?"

Lysandre laughed. "I'm surprised you remember! You'd drunk so much champagne that night!"

"You were drinking it too," he chuckled defensively.

"Oui, but who was so drunk that he fell asleep in the bath? And who had to carry aforementioned sleeping drunk _newly qualified Professor_ to bed?"

Smiling widely, Augustine rolled over and kissed Lysandre into silence on the subject.

\-- 

After they finished their bath (which had involved playful kisses and washing that came dubiously close to being considered foreplay), they towelled each other off then temporarily parted to find clothes and dress themselves.

They reunited in the living room. Wordlessly, they sat together on the couch. Augustine swung his legs over Lysandre's and curled up against him, smiling against his chest. Lysandre wrapped an arm around him but his expression turned grave.

"We should have that serious conversation now."

These words cut through Augustine. "Must we?" he asked meekly. He tightened his grip on Lysandre's shirt.

Lysandre nodded.  
"We must. When I'm away, I want you to look after yourself properly."

"You don't have to go away! I'll search the globe for the best defence attorney money can buy! And I know you meant well! I can be a character witness!"

Now Lysandre shook his head.  
"I won't let you do that. Do you know what defending me would do to your reputation? I won't let people sully you like that! I need to protect you!"

Augustine felt himself turn to lead, as if Lysandre had just announced his own death sentence. He completely collapsed onto Lysandre and sobbed into his shirt.

"Please don't cry, mon cher. If I... _When_ I'm incarcerated, the first thing I'll do will be to put forward a visitation request. After that, I'll be a model inmate and, with any luck, it won't be long before they permit conjugal visits. As long as it's what _you_ want, we will make this work. I will dedicate the rest of my life to truly earning your forgiveness. Of all I've done, hurting you was my only true regret."

Augustine felt overwhelmed by all this. He didn't know what to focus on. Prison visitations and conjugals... True forgiveness... Only true regret...? The man he loved still saw the world as corrupt and disgusting. Even acknowledging that he himself must be seen as some kind of divine exception... This hardly served as a comfort. If anything, it was even more frightening. He sat up straight, stroked Lysandre’s face and turned to look him in the eye, praying not to lose his sense of virtue.

"I love you, Lysandre," he said, ignoring the tears that swam down his own cheeks. "But I'm going to call the police now."

Lysandre hugged him tightly, crying, but still desperately proud of the man's righteous decision.

\- 

Lysandre made coffee while Augustine made the call. The professor went to his bedroom while he was on the phone, only just long enough to retrieve his door key. He knew if he spent too long in close proximity of the bed, he'd crumble and do something too drastic to even consider, making Lysandre's ultimate weapon plan seem like a simple faux pas.

Once he'd hung up the phone, he flung himself on the couch, curled up into a ball and sobbed uncontrollably. He didn't even notice Lysandre rubbing his shoulder and asking if he was okay.

The next thing he noticed, aside from his drowning sense of self-pity, was the threatening ring of the doorbell, followed by violent knocking. He got up and dragged himself to the door, like a man's last walk down Death Row. He unlocked the door and opened it to be surrounded by police officers and their Pokémon.

"He's just through here," he meekly informed his old friend, Officer Jenny.

"Thank you for your co-operation, Professor," she replied with a sad sympathetic look in her eyes. She turned to her team, including a proud Manectric at her side. "All right, men, continue with caution! Follow me!"

-

Augustine couldn't bare to watch any of the ensuing action, but based on what he could hear from the front doorway, there was little to see. He stood silently apart from a cascade of tears, gripping the doorframe, his knuckles as white as his face.

Lysandre looked so proud and stoic as the officer marched him out in handcuffs. His expression only changed when he saw the distraught professor. Regardless of everything he wanted to say, he bit his lip so to ensure no words slipped out.

As they marched out the front door, Augustine reached out and grabbed Officer Jenny's sleeve.   
"Please... Let me have one last goodbye..." he begged in a whisper.

They stopped in place. She looked at him for a moment. The last time she'd seen the two men together was at a dinner party, where they'd snuck off to "clean up" by which they meant "try to have a quiet quickie in the bathroom, but end up alerting the entire party to their activities". She smiled fondly, for a fraction of a second. She then nodded slowly.

"Just a quick goodbye, that's all," she said firmly. "And I'm afraid Monsieur de Fleur will need to remain handcuffed to me. I'm sure you both understand."

Both men nodded then held each other as best they could in the situation. They kissed, softly at first, quickly turning passionate.

Officer Jenny felt awful about having to part them, but duty forced her hand. She had to take hold of Lysandre's shoulder, pulling him away while giving them a deeply apologetic smile.

"I'm really sorry. We have to go now, Monsieur de Fleur."

They looked to each other sadly as their mouths and bodies parted.

"Je t'aime," they murmured in unison.

-

Professor Sycamore watched as his lover was put in the back of a police van. He stood, trembling, in the doorway, until the van had driven out of view. 

Going back inside, he found his now lukewarm coffee and drank it as though it were god given ambrosia. He sat back on the couch and felt... normal. Pleasantly so, as if he had been carefully unfrozen after a year of being nothing but ice.

Despite everything, he felt that he had hope now, a concept he'd recently felt to be lost to him. It would take a long time to rebuild everything, and nothing would be as it was, but at least he had foundations to work from now. He'd be able to sincerely encourage and joke with his colleagues and trainers again, without the underlying but unmistakable bitterness. He would eventually be able to go shopping with Diantha or other friends without breaking down if he saw something that reminded him of Lysandre. He might be able to sleep at night again, possibly even in his bed (though he was fairly sure it'd be a while before he could look at his bed without crying and touching himself).  
But mostly, he had his beloved Lysandre back in his life. Things weren't going to be the same as before, at all and they never could. Trust was going to be difficult to rebuild. Lysandre being in prison was also likely to provide it's own obstacles. But as he thought about it, it might get him some of the help he needed. Maybe even some therapy.

And as he thought about visiting him behind bars, he was sad for a moment, but seeing him once every few weeks would be a privilege compared to... well, the recent business of mourning.

Things weren't going to be perfect. Things weren't going to be the same as they were before. But things were going to be okay. Questions would be answered and thoughts would be voiced. They had room to grow together. A little death couldn't completely ruin all the years they'd shared together.


End file.
